


jack

by darkangel0410



Series: godlings [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, M/M, background Dylan Larkin/Zach Werenski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-19 04:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13696983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: Jack’s not exactly sure how old he is when he finds out the truth; it seems like he’s always known for the most part that he was different from everyone, even his own family wasn’t the same as he was. None of them heard the water talking or laughed with fish or could drink sea water. He was a better swimmer than anyone he knew and the only thing he loved more than the beach was playing hockey.Just like he’s always known he has two fathers, Jack’s always been aware there was a difference between him and his friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is finally done and I'm really excited to get posted, so I hope everyone enjoys it! Special thanks to my bae, waffles_007, for betaing this for me and listening to me talk about it for the past six months :*** I wrote this because I'll never not love Team North America and the NTDP, hope you all enjoy half-god Jack as much as I do. 
> 
> Spoilery warning at the end that I wasn't sure how to tag for.

“The sea isn’t like rivers and lakes back home,” Jack’s mom told him when he was small and it was almost impossible to keep him away from any kind of water. “It’s not tame and it only listens when it wants to.”

Jack remembers nodding because he didn’t know how to tell her that being in the water felt as safe to him as being at home; he had never been afraid of the water or anything in it and he didn’t understand how anyone could look at the water or feel it around them and be scared.

_godling,_ the sea calls to him, excited and happy, _you came back to us._

It takes Jack a long time to realize that not everyone sees the water the way he does.

* 

Most lakes are calm and easygoing; they speak measured and even, not in a rush for anything.

Rivers babble a lot, in a rush to tell everything they know as fast as they can and hurry on to the next subject.

Seas are always eager: eager to play and to destroy, just as happy to have fun as go to war, and their moods can turn on a dime.

Ponds are always cheerful and happy to help; if Jack’s looking for something that happens to be near a pond, he knows about it almost immediately.

Jack always knows where he stands with water.

*

The first time Jack plays against Connor in Buffalo, the ice asks Jack if he wants them to take care of him.

_it would be easy,_ they assure him, calm and unruffled; it’s simple for Jack to tell how arenas make their ice, a water’s personality stays the same, no matter what gets done to it. _it wouldn’t hurt him very much, just make it difficult for him to move around._

_no, thank you,_ Jacks tells them politely, patting the ice in affection; he stretches out on it, as comfortable as if he were in his own bed at home. _i want to beat him on my own._

_as you say,_ the ice agrees unperturbed; they both stop talking for a while after that, just taking pleasure in being around each other.

_thank you for letting us play on you,_ Jack says when he finally speaks again almost twenty minutes later; it’s just about time to go finish getting ready for the game and Jack bows his head in thanks when he’s on his feet. _it is an honor to be able to speak with you._

_and us to you,_ the ice tells him, a formal overtone to its words. _many blessings to you, godling._

Reino’s coming down the hallway when Jack steps off the ice and heads to the dressing room; he playfully elbows Jack when they pull even with each other. “Back on the ice, Eichs? I don’t know how you’re not freezing your nuts off, dude.”

Jack shrugs, looking down at his bare feet. “It’s not that cold, Reino, stop being a pussy.”

*

Jack’s five the first time it becomes really apparent that he isn’t exactly normal. They’re at his grandparents house when he wanders off, heading unerringly to the small pond that’s in the middle of his grandparent's garden.

He wades into the water, laughing when he sits down and the water’s over his head.

_you are very young to be on your own, godling,_ the pond remarks cheerfully, moving some of the sun-warmed parts of itself so it’s not as chilly where Jack is.

Jack giggles and waves his arms around, clearly delighted with where he is, _mommy’s talking to pop pop and i wanted to come see you._

Jack’s dad pulls him out of the water a few minutes later, yelling frantically for help; Jack starts crying when they put him on the ground, screaming at the top of his lungs. “You didn’t let me say goodbye,” Jack sobs when his dad asks him if he’s hurt somewhere.

No one notices the way the pond water ripples and pushes against the sides of the ground and rocks surrounding it until Jack stops crying.

Later that night, before they leave, his mom takes him to the pond and lets him say goodbye, watching thoughtfully when Jack ducks his head underwater and then comes back up a few minutes later.

“I’m ready to leave, Mommy,” Jack announces, patting the water as he walks back over to her.

By the time they’re halfway to the car, Jack’s as dry as he was before he went into the water and complaining that he’s thirsty; it’s a long time before either one of his parents lets Jack out of their sight again.

*

Jack’s not exactly sure how old he is when he finds out the truth; it seems like he’s always known for the most part that he was different from everyone, even his own family wasn’t the same as he was. None of them heard the water talking or laughed with fish or could drink sea water. He was a better swimmer than anyone he knew and the only thing he loved more than the beach was playing hockey.

Just like he’s always known he has two fathers, Jack’s always been aware there was a difference between him and his friends; it becomes second nature for him to laugh off questions or looks he gets when he’s at the beach with his friends. Or near any kind of water.

A lot of it gets written off as superstitions, especially as he gets older and he gets more serious about playing; by the time he goes to Ann Arbor, his habit of sitting on the ice before a game in just his underarmor is as accepted as Dylan’s insistence that he eats cheese fries before every game and Noah’s lucky stick tape. 

Of course, by the time he joins the NTDP, Jack’s already met Noah, John, and Dylan, so it feels almost like a homecoming when Auston and Charlie are there, too. They’re all the same, even if they can’t do the same things and it’s grounding for Jack to see every day that he’s not alone.

He mentions that to his dad, when he sees Him on his birthday, and his dad grins at him and laughs as the ocean reacts, swirling around their ankles even more enthusiastically than it had before. “Well, I would tell you it was on purpose, but even We owe thanks to blind luck now and then. I am glad that your cousins have helped you this much. I will give Tyche My thanks when I see Her again.” 

*

He’s thirteen when he meets Noah for the first time, that Jack remembers vividly. It was the first time he ever met anyone who was different in the same way he was, even if they couldn’t do the same things. Noah feels familiar to him right away, like they’ve been friends their whole lives. It’s not something Jack can articulate right away and Noah already understands.

He feels that same sense of homecoming every time he meets another one of his cousins and it’s not something he ever gets tired of, not even when they get in trouble for drinking when they’re sixteen and all of them are in Boston for a couple weeks in the summer.

It’s not the last time they get drunk off of wine Noah’s made, but they get better at hiding it after that.

Mostly.

* 

The thing with Connor happens accidently, during the World Cup. Jack knows himself and he knows how attracted he’s been to Connor since they were still playing against each other in tournaments every few months, and it had seemed like a good idea to not let himself get involved with Connor that way; Jack had enough problems without adding hockey Jesus to them.

Jack gets to Toronto a couple days early and spends some time with Auston and Dylan; they don’t really do anything, just hang out, but Auston is finally back from Switzerland and it’s good to hang out with him again, before he gets shipped off to Toronto for the foreseeable future and they only see each other a few times a season.

Connor and Ekblad end up getting there early, too, and Connor shows up at Auston and Dylan’s room, to let Jack know they’re rooming together and to see if they all want to get lunch with him and Ekblad, see some of the city after.

Jack doesn’t want to go, more to keep his feelings as far away from Connor as possible, but Connor looks like it would make his day and Jack figures he should make nice since they’re going to be playing together for the next few weeks. 

His phone goes off a bunch of times as they’re going down to the lobby, a ton of low pitched beeps that eventually makes Jack dig his phone out of his pocket and turn off the sound; he looks at the notifications long enough to see that it’s basically everyone chirping him about seeing Connor up close and personal. 

He flips off Dylan and Auston, which makes Dylan dissolve into a fit of giggling and Auston grin slyly; Connor and Ekblad both notice it, turning to look at them in curiosity. 

“What’s up?” Connor asks, frowning a little; it makes his eyebrows draw together and he looks aggravated for some reason Jack can’t fathom.

“Nothing, just these assholes and the rest of my jackass cousins being dicks in our chat,” Jack tells him, hipchecking Dylan and making him fall into Auston, both of them laughing now. He goes to trip Dylan but he speeds up past Jack, until he’s even with Ekblad and starts bullshitting with him about where to eat.

“Oh, ok,” Connor says, a small smile on his face when he looks at Jack again; he flushes when he meets Jack’s eyes and quickly adds, “Cousins? I didn’t realize you guys were all related, nothing I read -” Connor cuts himself off, shrugging like he’s trying to cover something up.

“It’s just an Ann Arbor thing,” Auston lies easily, sounding amused, “we were all there at the same time, so it just kind of stuck.”

It’s not really an answer, but Connor doesn’t question it, just nods and changes the subject to the tournament.

They eat lunch outside, the five of them jammed together in two tables; it’s gorgeous out, sunny and breezy, and they’re next to a fountain with some koi fish in it. Fish gossip a lot, more than just about any other animal Jack’s ever known, and the fountain water was piped in from a nearby river, so Jack spends lunch listening to the guys bullshit and catching up on all the gossip both the fish and the river want to tell him. Most of it is weather related and the koi are eager to brag about how good they are at everything; it’s fun and relaxing, even if Jack catches Connor looking at him quizzically a few times.

Auston stretches out in the seat next to him, their legs bumping together under the table, and turns his face up towards the sun and hums to himself; he answers Connor when he asks him something, but most of his attention is on the sun and Jack briefly wonders how cranky he’s going to be come January when he’s stuck in Toronto and it’s freezing. 

When they’re done eating, Auston and Dylan distract Connor and Ekblad so Jack can dip his hand in the fountain and let the fish nibble at his fingers for a second before he leaves, promising to come stop by again if he gets a chance.

“Did you have your hand in the fountain?” Connor asks when Jack catches up to them a minute later; he sounds more curious than anything else, but Jack has been deflecting questions like that for most of his life.

“Why would I do that?” Jack laughs, and holds up his dry hand as proof, “Don’t you think my hand would still be wet if I was going around sticking it in water?”

Connor gives him a weird look but lets it drop when Dylan starts bitching about being bored; they end up deciding to go to the Toronto Aquarium and both Dylan and Auston give him sympathetic looks as they make their way towards the building.

Aquariums were a crapshoot in Jack’s experience, depending on everything from where they got their water to what kind of fish they had and how long they had been in captivity; he still had nightmares about Sea World, a decade after he had gone with his parents and sister. 

Most aquariums weren’t anywhere close to being that bad and the one they go to in Toronto is normal: the fish were taken care of, if a little sad about not being in the wild, and the water is excited to see him, pushing against the tanks to try to get to him.

“They use real salt water, huh?” Jack asks absently as they get their tickets and walk inside; he looks around, a little sad that he’s so close to the water but not able to touch it.

“Yeah, it’s the only aquarium in Canada that does,” Connor answers, following along when Jack wanders through the front part of the aquarium, heading for where the water was the loudest. “It’s also got the biggest underwater walk through in the country.”

Jack hums to show that he’s listening and keeps walking; he knows he should probably check to see where everyone else is going, but it feels like it’s been years since he’s been this close to the sea, even if it’s only been a few weeks. Dylan and Auston can take care of themselves and Jack’s pretty sure there’s not too much trouble they can get into here. 

Pretty soon Jack’s in the middle of the walkway, and if he closes his eyes and pretends, it’s almost as good as being in the water.

_the humans have an open pool that they have set up so they can see crabs and some fish swim around,_ the sea tells him excitedly, _if you go there we can talk to you properly, godling._

_i’ll stop there before i leave,_ Jack promises, smiling widely and pressing his hand against the glass in a gesture meant to comfort.

_hello, godling,_ a deep voice greets him and when Jack looks up, he’s not surprised to see a shark swimming overhead.

_sir,_ Jack says respectfully, inclining his head in greeting; Jack’s never been afraid of anything that lives in any kind of water, but sharks have always struck him as immense, both in age and size, living for longer than any scientist could believe. They guard his father in times of peace and fight by his side during wars, and have always treated Jack with a kind of grave respect that almost demanded Jack respond in kind. _i’m surprised to see you here, i was unaware of any of you in toronto or i would have come earlier._

_it is well,_ the shark assures him serenely, swimming around until he was alongside Jack and could see him easily. _i miscalculated during the last storm and washed up on a beach and hurt myself, some humans came along and i was brought here. soon they shall let me back out into the water and i will go home._

_that’s good,_ Jack tells him, pressing a hand to the glass again and wishing there was a way he could actually be in the water. _you’re not made for captivity._

_no,_ the shark agrees, he bumps against the glass where Jack’s hand is and swims off while everyone who’s in the tunnel jumps and moves away from the glass warily. _be well, son of Poseidon._

Jack smiles to himself at the humor in the words and action; sharks took great pleasure in reminding humans that they didn’t rule the ocean and took every opportunity presented to them to do it.

“There you are,” Connor says, coming up behind Jack; he looks over to where Jack’s hand is still pressed against the glass, but doesn’t say anything about it, just adds on, “There’s a big open pool by the back of the aquarium that’s usually pretty cool, if you want to check it out? Larks and Matts went to go get something to eat, and Eks had to call his girlfriend, but I wouldn’t mind going with you?”

He sounds hesitant to Jack, like he’s not sure if Jack’s going to tell him to go fuck off or maybe punch him in the face; Jack knows he can be a dick sometimes, but he’s got to play in this tournament with Connor and they should probably at least be on speaking terms for the next few weeks. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go check it out.”

Connor grins at him, face lighting up like he’s actually thrilled Jack wants to spend time with him. Jack tells himself the flush of pleasure he feels at the sight of Connor’s smile is just for the good of the team.

He doesn’t believe it: he’s always been shitty at lying to himself. 

To his credit, Connor doesn’t hang back, he stands next to Jack on the ledge that’s around the pool and cautiously reaches out to touch the manta rays and other animals that come crowd the water by them; he doesn’t say much, either, content to focus on whatever he was thinking about while Jack talks to the sea and everyone else that wants to talk to him.

He’s not sure how long he’s been zoned out for but when he focuses back on Connor, he’s patiently waiting still, taking pics of the pool and the animals; Jack catches himself watching Connor for a few seconds, smiling to himself when Connor makes a face at his phone.

Connor glances up and meets Jack’s eyes, grinning broadly; it makes Jack flush and he can feel his face turning bright red, and he speaks up before Connor can say anything. “I’m starving, want to go get something to eat before we head back?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Connor says brightly, he looks down at his phone again while he chews on his lip for a few seconds.

Jack blanks out and has a vivid image of biting Connor’s lip before he kisses him and pushes him against a wall flash through his brain. It takes Connor saying his name for Jack to focus back on their conversation and he really hopes he doesn’t look as distracted as he feels. “Yeah, sorry, what’s up?”

Connor raises his eyebrow in a silent question, but just says, “There’s a good cafe down the street from here, Marns told me they have really good burgers -we could go there and meet up with everyone else when they’re done?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Jack agrees, ignoring how happy he is for the excuse to be spending more time with Connor. 

_goodbye,_ Jack says, patting the water briefly before he follows Connor. _i’ll try to stop by again._

_goodbye, godling_ , the sea calls after him cheerfully, happy for now. 

John texts him later on, when he’s laying down and Connor’s snoring in the bed across from him, just a link to a post from Connor’s instagram with a bunch of heart emojis; the post is a pic of them from the cafe, looking up into the camera and it’s captioned ‘teammates’ with some USA and Canadian flag emojis. Jack’s wearing sunglasses and he’s not really smiling into the camera, but there’s no denying he’s leaning into Connor’s space and he looks more relaxed than he has for probably most of the summer.

Jack tells him to fuck off and then shuts his phone off before John can text him back; he’s not dumb, he knows himself and he doesn’t need John to tell him he’s getting too attached to Connor. He wonders briefly if his cousin meant both of them and not just him. Jack scowls at the ceiling and tells himself to shut up before he rolls onto his side and closes his eyes. 

It’s a long time before he falls asleep.

*

Jack dreams, vividly, that he’s riding Connor, lazy and easy, grinning down at him while Connor’s hands are tight on his hips, and he’s almost panting for it. It feels familiar in the dream, like they’ve been with each other like this a hundred times and will be again another hundred after this. 

Jack wakes up mid-dream, hard and aching, his breath caught in his throat; he blinks up at the ceiling for a minute before he realizes that the room’s quiet and when he looks over Connor’s bed is empty. A second after that, his brain registers that the shower’s running; his phone’s still off so Jack’s not sure what time it is but it’s still dark out, everything quiet except for the muted sound of traffic and the water from the shower.

He’s already so close to getting off, the dream doing more for him than it probably should have; even the material from his shorts dragging across his erection makes him moan quietly. Jack’s hands are on the bed, still fisted in the sheets from when he first woke up. He breathes in and out for a few minutes, tries to stop breathing so roughly; eventually Connor’s going to get out of the shower and Jack’s not eager for Connor to see him like this, teammates or not.

Eventually he calms down and when Connor’s done, Jack’s on his side, back to the room; he’s still awake but it’s easy to pretend to be asleep while Connor moves around before getting back into his own bed.

He drifts off back to sleep but the dream stays in the back of his mind even while he’s unconscious.

*

“You alright?” Auston asks him in the morning while they’re eating breakfast in the lobby restaurant; Dylan’s half asleep still, head propped up on his hand while he drinks his second cup of coffee and listens to them talk. “You look like shit,” he adds in that no nonsense way of his when Jack doesn’t say anything right away.

Jack thinks about deflecting, but there’s no point, they both know him too well to let him get away with it. Even worse, they’d sic everyone else on him if they thought something was really wrong and as much as Jack loves them all, he’s not in the mood to be fussed over. “I was up a lot last night, had some weird dreams.”

“Dreams? Or _dreams_?” Dylan questions seriously, for all that he still sounds like he just woke up.

“I think just regular dreams,” Jack answers slowly, thinking about his dream of Connor over again; it was vivid, but there wasn’t any of the usual bells and whistles that Jack associates with prophetic dreams. “It was realistic but it wasn’t a _dream_. Besides, that’s more Auston and Charlie’s thing than mine.”

Auston nods slowly, conceding the point; he still looks thoughtful and Jack knows it’s not a coincidence when Auston tilts his head to where Connor and Ekblad are standing by the hostess station. “Was it about McDavid then? You’ve always been weird about him.”

Jack fixes him with a flat stare but one of the pitfalls of being as close as they are is that Auston’s immune to his glaring by now and doesn’t do more than raise an eyebrow at Jack. “So what if it was? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure it doesn’t,” Dylan scoffs, finally sitting up straight and he waves Connor and Ekblad over to sit with them before Jack can stop him. “It might not have been a _dream_ , but that doesn’t mean you don’t want it to be true.”

Jack hunches his shoulders but doesn’t bother saying anything; they both know him too well to believe any denial he might make and if he bitched about it too much, they would do their damnedest to throw him and Connor together any time they thought it was a good idea. “Shouldn’t you be annoying Z instead of me?”

It’s a weak chirp and Jack knows it; Dylan doesn’t even acknowledge it, except to roll his eyes, and Auston hides his smirk in his coffee like the asshole he is. Jack pulls his phone out and lets himself sulk for a couple minutes, just long enough to check his messages and answer a couple people back; he makes sure to laugh at John and Charlie because they’re complaining about having to go back to school. 

Jack grins when the waitress comes over to take their orders, leans back into the booth and starts chirping Dylan and Auston, balls up a napkin and tosses it at Ekblad when he joins in. It’s not bad, even with Connor in the seat next to him, for all that Jack’s hyper aware of him every time he moves around or says something.

He tries to keep it easy, tries to not let on how even just the press of Connor’s leg against his under the table makes him feel warm all over; it doesn’t work with Auston or Dylan, obviously, but Jack’s more concerned with keeping his unfortunate crush hidden from the people he’s not related to and he thinks he mostly succeeds. 

They don’t have to do press or anything yet, for all the reporters and other players that Jack’s seen trickling in since they sat down; he idly wonders what they’re doing today or if they’re just going to kick around the hotel for a few hours.

“We should go outside and do something,” Dylan says when there’s a lull in the conversation, “let Auston soak up the sun before it disappears for five months,” he adds slyly, smirking when Auston rolls his eyes.

“Uh, there’s a small petting zoo not too far away from here?” Connor offers after exchanging glances with Ekblad; he blushes when Jack looks at him, but goes on, “It’s nothing great, but they have, uh, some goats and stuff. A couple horses. It’s not usually too busy.”

“Been there a lot, Davo?” Jack drawls, nudging his leg against Connor’s; it’s dumb, and Jack knows it, to let himself tease Connor like this, just so he can watch the way Connor flushes down past the collar of the v-neck shirt he has on.

Jack doesn’t really hear Connor’s answer, too busy staring at the line of Connor’s throat and wanting to know what his skin tastes like; he drags his eyes off of him and sees both Dylan and Auston looking smug.

He’s so fucked and he knows it.

*

It’s the promise of horses that gets Jack to agree to go; it’s harder for him to visit horses than be near some kind of water and he never passes up a chance to see them. They all end up going, taking two different cars to get there; he’s in a car with Auston and Ekblad, the two of them up front, talking to each other about the upcoming season and whatever music is on the radio. Jack happily stretches out on the back seat, going through his instagram and humming along when a song he knows comes on. 

He sees Dylan’s post, just a selfie of him and half of Connor’s face, while Connor’s driving, his eyes focused on the road; Jack feels a stab of worry at the idea of Dylan alone with Connor for the whole drive. Jack can only hope Dylan doesn’t spend it either grilling Connor about his private life or faux-casually pointing out how awesome Jack is; Jack loves Dylan, and he knows Dylan’s heart is in the right place, but Dylan wouldn’t know subtle if it kicked his ass all over Toronto, and the last thing Jack wants right now is for Connor to be uncomfortable around him.

Connor seems fine, he smiles at Jack when they get out of the car and walks next to him when they all head across the parking lot towards the entrance; Jack still flips off Dylan behind Connor’s back because it’s no less than he deserves and Dylan shoves him into Connor making both of them stumble and Jack grab onto Connor to avoid falling on his face. By the time they straighten up, Dylan’s already paying to get in and grinning over his shoulder at the rest of them.

“Jesus, he’s fast,” Ekblad says, sounding impressed, “I didn’t even see him go past us.” 

“You get used to it after a while,” Auston tells him dryly, glancing up at the bright sun with a slight smile; he’s the only one of them not wearing sunglasses, not squinting in the bright sunlight at all while he looks around. 

Connor was right: it’s not very big, but the animals all seem happy and well fed, content to be pet by them for a few minutes before wandering off. It doesn’t take long for them to make their way to the field where the horses are; they’re at the fence for only a few seconds before they head towards them.

_hello, godling_ they both say at the same time, nuzzling and headbutting Jack’s hands and arms. 

_hello, guys,_ Jack tells them, grinning happily; he runs his hands over the piebald stallion’s face, gently blows air into his face and patiently waits for him to do the same before Jack repeats it with the brown mare. _you both look gorgeous, the humans are taking good care of you._

The stallion preens and tosses his head back, dances away from them a little bit, while the mare nuzzles Jack’s hand and ignores the stallion’s antics to talk to him. _i am glad you have come, godling._

_yeah, me, too,_ Jack agrees, moving over to make room for the other guys to stand next to him.

“I always wanted to race a horse,” Dylan tells them a few minutes later; he’s looks serious about it, too, and it makes Jack and Auston exchange smirks: Dylan’s ridiculous competitiveness about his speed had gotten him into trouble more than once when they were in Ann Arbor.

“I don’t think even you could outrun a horse, Larks,” Connor laughs and pats the mare easily.

_tell the son of Hermes that i will gladly race him and win_ , the stallion neighs, stomping his front hooves and staring at Dylan.

“Looks like you pissed him off, Larks,” Eks tells him, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him away from the fence. “Come on, let’s go get some ice cream or something.”

Jack says goodbye to the horses, lingering for a few minutes longer than he meant to at first, and by the time he’s done, Connor’s the only one still waiting for him; he’s standing a few feet back, texting on his phone but he looks up when he hears Jack walking and he grins at him, looks so fucking happy to see him and Jack can feel his heart clench.

He is so, so fucked.

*

Jack dreams of Connor again that night and the tiny part of him that knows he’s still asleep worries about it, how real it seems, how vivid it is, the way Connor’s highlighted in it; most worrying is the way the scent of seawater clings to everything in the dream despite the fact that they’re on the ice, inside some arena or practice rink.

He knows the whole time it’s a dream, but it’s also not _just_ one: the scents, the way Connor’s lit up in comparison to everything around him; he’s too _real_ , too _present_ for this to be just a dream. Jack tries to wake himself up and isn’t really surprised to find that he can’t: his father sent this dream to him, for whatever reason, and He’s not going to let him wake up until it’s over.  
Jack watches the dream play out in front of him, resigned; for all that Jack doesn’t want to see any glimpse of his future, this dream is pleasant and surprisingly simple: him and Connor are skating around the rink, shooting the puck at each other, passing it back and forth, setting each other up for one-timers. He can’t hear any conversation, but they’re laughing and happy, clearly having fun.

It goes on like that for a while until both of them end up standing face to face, talking to each other with soft smiles on their faces and Jack sees himself reach out and grab Connor’s shirt and pull him close; they kiss and it’s strangely intimate for all that it’s just a quick press of their lips together. 

“Love you,” Connor says quietly, hooking his fingers into Jack’s belt loops and tugging him even closer so that they’re in danger of getting their skates tangled together.

Jack wakes up with a low gasp, sitting straight up in bed, his heart pounding; he can still hear an echo of his own words, _I love you, too_ , ringing in his ears and he feels rubbed raw, a physical pain in his chest like he’s been ripped open and everyone can see what’s in his heart, can see how _dumb_ he is over Connor already. Connor’s steady snoring in the other bed just seems to drive the point home.

He doesn’t go back to sleep and ends up taking a shower before it’s even light out; he’s in there for a while, too, turns the shower all the way to hot, even though it never feels warmer than room temperature to him; he’s hard and his brain is filled with Connor, filled with both dreams of him and how much it makes him want Connor. Jack wants him already, from almost the first time they played against each other, but now it seems like it’s right there in front of him, if he just reaches for it.

It’s a lot and even with the dream and John’s hints to him, Jack still wonders if it’s possible that Connor wants him back, too.

*

 

Auston and Dylan know something’s up, of course, but they don’t press him on it for once; Jack sees them exchange a couple looks but that’s it and neither one of them bring up Connor at all. 

Jack’s grateful for the reprieve; he still feels overwhelmed by last night’s dream and he’s not sure if he can handle talking about Connor right now, even casually. He sneaks glances at Connor out of the corner of his eye, notices how happy he looks, laughing with Ekblad and some of the other guys.

He wonders what would happen if he went and sat down with Connor, sat in the chair next to him and pressed their legs together: would Connor smile at him and bump their shoulders together? Would he ignore him? Jack just doesn’t know.

Almost like he knows what Jack’s thinking, Connor glances up and catches Jack looking at him; he grins at him before looking away, flushing a little bit.

“He’s so into you, dude,” Dylan says quietly and when Jack looks at him, his face is completely serious in a way it usually wasn’t. “I asked yesterday in the car and if he was lying, I would have kicked his ass all over this place, hockey Jesus or not,” he adds when Jack looks at the table and shrugs.

“No one’s saying you have to do anything, Jack, but if your issue is that you think he doesn’t like you, well, you’re wrong, that’s all,” Auston tells him, looking at him steadily when Jack opens his mouth to deny it and once Jack closes it, he goes on, “He likes you probably just as much as you like him and if you don’t believe that, I’m sure John would love to take a break from his college shit and come hang out so you could hear it from him.”

“I just, I don’t know why he would want me,” Jack finally says, deliberately looking at the ceiling; he isn’t great at emotional stuff and it makes him uncomfortable to be baring his feelings like this, even to his cousins. “I know myself, alright, and I’m great at hockey, but really that’s it, and there’s other guys who are probably better than me, that’s all.”

“Jesus, Jack, seriously?” Auston’s tone is enough to shock Jack into looking at him because he sounds _angry_ and he looks it, too, and Auston hardly ever lets himself lose his temper like that. “You’re great, OK? You play amazing hockey, you’re a great friend and you’re so loyal, dude. You’re a good person, Jack, and you’re no one’s consolation prize, no matter what that jackass in Buffalo said. I could beat the shit out of him for this bullshit he’s put in your head, I hope -”

“Auston,” Dylan says, a warning clear in his voice; Auston’s hands are curled into fists and he’s started shimmering, nothing major, and because they were inside, it just looks like he’s sweating a lot, but there’s a reason why Auston’s so even-tempered most of the time, and if he actually lost his temper, it would be a mess, even if they weren’t out in the sun. 

Auston closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then another one, and by the third, he’s back to normal; it’s impressive, Jack’s always admired his control.

“He’s right, though,” Dylan says, fixing Jack with a look strangely similar to Auston’s. “Davo’d be lucky to have you in any way, but especially as a boyfriend. Or whatever you want to call it. Murray’s a fucking moron and I hope he gets tossed out on his ass, I’d rather have you on my team than Davo any day.”

Jack swallows roughly before he nods and hunches forward; he playfully kicks Dylan and Auston’s legs a little bit and relaxes when they kick him back. 

*

Jack goes and sits out on the ice before the game, the last twenty minutes he has before he has to start taping his stick; it’s not his arena or his ice, but it feels comfortable still, sitting cross-legged on the ice with his hands resting on the surface.

It’s easy for him to zone out, to breathe easily, the ice’s happy murmuring a comfortable background noise while he gets in the right headspace for a game. No one comes out to bother him and Jack spares a second to wonder if Dylan or Auston warned them off while they were getting Dylan’s cheese fries and Auston’s diet coke.

He gets a couple looks when he gets back into the locker room and he settles in front of his stall to tape his stick, but it’s easy to block them out and focus on the upcoming game.

*

Jack scores in the first shift of the game, a beauty snipe on a pass from Connor; everything seems like it’s in slow-motion, Connor crashing into him, screaming wildly and Auston right behind him. It feels like even the ice is cheering for him, humming happily, and Jack’s not surprised that when he looks up, his father is in the crowd, smiling at him. 

He winks at Jack and then He’s gone; everything is normal again, the noise rushes back and fills his ears and Connor squeezes his shoulder and then gives his ass a friendly pat when they skate off to high five everyone on the bench.

Jack catches Auston’s eyes when they’re back on the bench, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head towards the crowd; Auston smirks at him and Jack knows he saw Him, too. 

They win the game, 5-0, and to Jack it feels almost like a blessing for the rest of the tournament.

*

They all go out to celebrate and Jack ends up in a booth with Auston and Dylan; they’re not even buzzed, but it’s fun, hanging out with their teammates and watching guys trying to pick up, laughing when they strike out. Jack’s not interested in fucking anyone he could pick up here, except Connor, and Dylan’s been ass over heels for Z since they were kids, but Auston hasn’t even looked twice at anyone who’s hit on him the whole time they’ve been in Toronto and it makes Jack wonder.

“Just haven’t been in the mood,” Auston shrugs when Jack mentions it; there’s something off, though, and when Dylan presses the subject, Jack knows he’s noticed it, too. Auston deflates, a little, and Jack gets it: neither one of them are as open as the others, and Auston is worse than Jack, who knows he lets his emotions show on his face for all that he hates talking about them. But Auston’s usually a blank slate unless you know him well and even with them he doesn’t like talking about things that much. 

Jack doesn’t say anything once Auston bites his lip; pushing only works so far with him and after a certain point, he’ll dig his heels in out of spite, no matter how he actually feels about it. There’s a fine line with Auston, Jack knows, to show him that you care without pushing him or making him feel suffocated. He’s the best out of any of them at getting Auston to talk when something’s up and Dylan defers to him without complaint when Jack shakes his head at him.

Dylan goes and gets them some drinks, and they bullshit about the game for a few minutes, going over their powerplay and it’s not long before Auston abruptly puts down his drink and tells them, “I had this dream when I was in Switzerland and there was a guy in it -we were at practice, I think, and he fed me for a one-timer and I missed and shattered the glass behind the net. He -he turned to me and laughed, and now I can’t,” Auston trails off, at a rare loss for words and Jack can sympathize, seeing your future laid out in front of you like that always knocked you on your ass, no matter how often you happened to see it.

“Your dad?” Dylan confirms and slides the rest of his drink over to Auston when he nods glumly and pats him on the shoulder consolingly; it won’t get Auston drunk, but it’s a nice thought, and Auston smiles a little bit before he tips back the drink to finish it.

“I was homesick, and it was so fucking cold out,” Auston says almost absently, staring at the empty bottle in his hand, “It felt like it had been forever since I’d seen anyone I knew and it just -I was lonely, I guess. I had the dream that night. And now no one seems worth the effort any more.”

“ _Dreams_ suck ass,” Dylan says, shaking his head, “I wish they weren’t a thing, I hate knowing stuff’s going to happen before it actually does.”

“Do you know the guy?” Jack asks and raises his eyebrows when Auston looks embarrassed. “Wait, you said it was at a practice, right? For the Leafs?”

Auston sighs in resignation and rolls his eyes; he’s smirking a little, though, and Jack’s glad his usual good humor is back. 

“Was it Marner?” Jack asks gleefully, fistpumping when Auston just stares at him; Dylan starts giggling, trying to stop himself when Auston turns a flat stare at him, too. “Oh, my god, you’ve got the hots for Marns. I feel so much better about my life choices now.”

“I hate both of you,” Auston says flatly.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire!” Dylan sings loudly, pointing a finger at Auston and snickering at the look on his face.

“Hey, guys,” Connor says happily as he falls into the booth next to Jack; he’s drunk and loose with it, leaning into Jack’s personal space like it belongs to him. Which, it does, kind of, and Jack’s starting to be resigned to the fact that he’s probably just going to be dumb about Connor for the rest of his life. “Are you guys having fun? You should be, we won, you should have all the fun.

“That was a beauty goal, Jacky,” Connor adds, resting his weight against Jack fully and leaning his head on Jack’s shoulder. “So, so pretty. I would let you score all the goals this tournament.”

“Ah, thanks, Connor,” Jack says and he hands over the rest of his beer when Connor grabs at it; both Dylan and Auston are grinning at him and Jack can’t be assed to even glare back, with Connor pressed all along his side and humming under his breath while he drinks.

It’s a good night.

*

They have four days in between games, so the coaches give them a day off; Jack works out with Auston in the morning while Dylan wanders off with Jo and Mack. A lot of guys are in and out of the gym while they’re in there, but they end up staying the longest; it’s not surprising, really, they’ve always been gym rats and afterwards Jack feels better, more relaxed, more centered. 

It puts him in a great mood and Auston seems the same, they go for an early lunch and they chirp each other easily, settling down once their food gets there; it’s not as loud as it would be if Dylan was with them, but him and Auston have always been able to be quiet with each other.

They part ways after lunch and Jack heads back to his room for another shower.

He doesn’t take too long, just rinses off and washes his hair, wraps a towel around his waist when he realizes he forgot to bring clothes in with him and goes over to his bag that he still hasn’t unpacked yet.

Jack hears a noise and when he glances over his shoulder, he sees Connor sitting on his bed, phone in his hand. “Hey, man, I didn’t realize you were back. What’s up?”

Connor doesn’t say anything and when Jack straightens up and turns around, Connor’s eyes jerk up to Jack’s face and he flushes. “I was, um, just…”

He trails off, clearly flustered and Jack knows it’s a bad idea, knows there’s no guarantee that this isn’t going to end with his heart broken, he still smirks at Connor and asks, “Just what, checking me out?”

Connor turns even redder, but he manages to tell Jack, “You’re wandering around in a towel, dude, what do you expect me to look at?”

Jack grins then, walks away from his bag and stops in front of Connor, puts his fingers on the edge of the towel where it’s resting just above his groin. “You complaining about it?”

Connor swallows and reaches out to grip Jack’s hips, pulls him a couple inches closer until he can press a kiss to the skin just below Jack’s belly button. “I wouldn’t say that,” Connor tells him and Jack can feel Connor’s lips move while he’s talking and he doesn’t have to fake the shaky breathe he lets out.

Connor kisses his stomach again, drags his teeth across Jack’s skin and looks up at him through his lashes, fingers resting next to Jack’s on the towel. “Yeah?” he asks hopefully, like he wants this almost as much as Jack does.

It seems like time freezes for a second, drags on, while Jack tries to breathe; he knows it could still end badly, that it could all go wrong, but in the end the glimpse he’s had of them together and the way he feels, now, whenever he’s around Connor, it makes almost anything seem worth it.

Jack moves his hand, runs his fingers through Connor’s hair, before he says, “Yeah, I want you.”

Connor grins at him and tugs on the towel, pulls Jack onto his lap when it falls to the ground. “Thank god, I thought it was just me.”

* 

Later on, when Connor’s napping next to him, Jack thinks about the dreams he’s had about Connor and hopes.

*

They take a shower together when they wake up, trading sloppy handjobs under the water and kissing until Connor complains about being cold; Jack lets Connor rinse off first and shrugs it off when Connor thanks him when they’re getting dressed a little later.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jack tells him while he’s going through his phone; he has some messages in the group chat, mostly Charlie griping about how many shitty ghosts are haunting BU. 

Jack makes a sympathetic face, he didn’t realize it was that bad: he had passed along the stories that he heard but there hadn’t been a lot of them. Most people didn’t talk to dead people the way Charlie did, though, so Jack supposes it’s not really surprising that he’s picking up on more of them.

“It’s cute how you pretend you don’t care,” Connor says, startling Jack and making him look up from his phone. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he adds with a small smile, kissing the corner of Jack’s mouth before he heads out the door, sliding his wallet into his pocket and leaving Jack staring after him.

It takes a few seconds but Jack follows after him still a little guilty, because it _hadn’t_ been a big deal to him: water never felt cold to him, no matter what the temperature was, it was just part of who he was. But he couldn’t tell Connor that, not yet. 

Maybe not ever. 

*

They’re at the same club they went to after yesterday’s win, most of the team there after Connor had texted everyone earlier, telling them it was for team bonding, and almost everyone had taken him at his word.

They break off into their own groups, Jack with Auston and Dylan, Connor with Nuge and Mack, and there’s groups of guys all throughout the club; it’s not a huge place, but there’s still two floors and they’re playing decent music. 

“Have fun this afternoon?” Dylan asks, raising his eyebrows and attempting to leer at Jack; it’s comical if only because Dylan’s incapable of looking anything other than adorable and earnest most of the time and Jack has to work to not laugh in his face. Next to him, Auston snorts into his drink and gives Dylan a blank look when he glares at him. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack tells him, ignoring the incredulous looks they’re both giving him. “All I did was take a nap, asshole.”

“Yeah, right,” Dylan scoffs and leans across the table to jab viciously at the hollow of Jack’s throat making Jack flail wildly and almost send their drinks flying. “What’s that then, huh?”

“Jesus, what the fuck,” Jack wheezes, coughing a little, “are you trying to kill me dickhead?”

“Stop being a drama queen,” Dylan tells him, flicking a balled up straw wrapper at him. “It wasn’t even that hard.”

“He’s talking about the hickey on your throat,” Auston interjects before Jack and Dylan really start going at it; he looks unimpressed, but Jack’s not sure if it’s because of the conversation or the way him and Dylan are still kicking each other under the table. 

“Shit,” Jack says, touching his throat and glaring when Dylan snickers at him. “Look, it’s not a big deal.”

“No, of course it’s not,” Auston says blandly, fixing Jack with the same kind of look he usually saves for dumb reporters; it makes Jack huff out an annoyed breath, but Auston doesn’t even blink. “You hooked up with the guy that you’ve liked since we were sixteen, but no big deal, huh?”

“I’m not going to let it be a thing,” Jack tells them and takes a sip of his beer; he taps his fingers on the table, refusing to glance over his shoulder when he hears Connor laughing. “We’re going to have fun and win games and I’m not going to get upset if this ends up just being a one time thing.”

“You’re a shitty liar, buddy,” Dylan says pityingly and shakes his head. “Not to mention, Davo actually likes you, so I think you’re going to have a hard time getting rid of him.”

“Please, he doesn't want to get rid of him,” Auston snickers, relaxing back into the booth and kicking Jack lightly. “He wants to smuggle him into Buffalo and marry him, so he can escape the shame of banging a Canadian.”

It devolves from there, until Jack’s legs are covered in bruises from everyone kicking each other and the three of them are laughing. “You guys are such assholes,” Jack manages to get out, still chuckling.

“Here comes the captain,” Auston announces, smirking when Jack straightens up.

“Hey, guys,” Connor says, grinning at them, “having fun?”

He slides his hand around Jack’s neck while he nods at whatever Dylan’s saying; his grip is loose and relaxed, but it feels almost like a brand to Jack, like Connor’s handprint is going to be there for everyone to see after this. He can’t help leaning into it, ignoring the sly looks Auston’s giving him.

Connor looks down at Jack then and his smile softens; it makes Jack blush for some reason, but he smiles back up at him anyway. “Want a beer? I’m going over that way.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jack tells him, blinking when Connor leans down to give him a quick kiss. 

“Rude, playing favorites like that, Davo,” Dylan calls after him, turning so he can toss a straw wrapper after him. “What if I wanted a kiss?”

“Jesus, Dylan, could you chill,” Jack mutters, hunching his shoulders; he can feel the other guys looking over at their table and it makes him wish he could make himself less visible. “I’m just going to gag you from now on.”

“Sorry, Zach’s the only one I play sex games with,” Dylan says cheerfully, settling back down in his seat. 

“Eks looks serious for someone who’s half tanked,” Auston comments, looking past Jack to where Connor’s table is. “He’ll probably end up giving you the shovel talk at some point.” 

“You should probably do the same to Connor,” Dylan says absently, most of his attention on his phone. “Charlie’s not here and you loom like a champ.”

“What the fuck, guys, I’m right here,” Jack complains half-heartedly; he’s not really serious about it, though, and judging from the way they both roll their eyes, Auston and Dylan both know it.

“I’ll take care of it now,” Auston says and gets up, grabbing Dylan’s empty bottle as well as his own. “I need a drink, anyway.”

Jack thinks about protesting, but he knows it wouldn’t do any good; they’re just looking out for him and he would have done the same for them.

“Ten bucks says Ekblad comes over here now that Auston’s gone,” Dylan says, grinning down at his phone before he puts it back in his pocket. “I bet he thinks I’m just not that threatening.”

“Shows how much he knows,” Jack snorts, trying to relax; it helps when Dylan holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers, clearly wanting his money. Jack rolls his eyes, but digs out his wallet and presses a twenty into Dylan’s palm. “You owe me ten bucks, asshole.”

“Hey, Eks, what’s up?” Dylan says, smiling innocently; Jack’s seen him pull that act more times than he can count and it’s gotten Dylan out of lot of trouble when they were younger.

“Hey, guys,” Eks says, smiling back; he’s all business, though, for all that he’s slurring his words a little bit. Jack can respect that, he understands wanting to protect your friends. “Just wanted to see what you were up to.

“You and Davo, huh?” he adds, without even waiting for either of them to say anything.

“Yeah, it looks that way,” Jack answers casually even though he feels like he’s going to have a heart attack, his heart’s pounding so hard; it’s different, Ekblad and everyone else knowing about him and Connor. It makes it _real_ in a way it wasn’t before now.

“Just -he’s a good guy, Eichs, don’t jerk him around, eh? I don’t want to have to kick your ass,” Eks tells him, his face set in hard lines.

Dylan giggles and tries to cover it up with a cough when Eks frowns at him. “Sorry, just have something stuck in my throat,” he says with another disarming smile; it’s amusing to see Eks smile back at him when he clearly isn’t in the mood for it.

Jack can see Auston and Connor heading back towards them and he wants to finish this conversation before it has a chance to get even more awkward. “I wouldn’t do that, dude, come on. Connor -he matters to me, I’m not going to be shitty to him.”

Eks squints at him, probably trying to judge if Jack’s being honest through the alcohol haze wrapped around his brain. Dylan’s smiling again, but it’s soft and fond, more real than all the charming grins he likes to throw at people to get his way. 

“Alright,” Eks finally says, nodding a little. He looks over his shoulder to where Mack and Jo were pressed together, Jo on Mack’s lap and nuzzling his neck, while Mack’s hands weren’t visible at all; he makes a face and adds, “I’ll take your word on it, Eichs, but I live like an hour away from a swamp and don’t think I won’t feed you to some alligators if you hurt Davo.”

He can see Dylan smirking, but he nods at Eks; the alligators wouldn’t hurt him, but Jack respects the sincerity behind the words. “Good luck dealing with that,” Jack tells him, glancing over his shoulder to where Jo and Mack were kissing. 

Eks rolls his eyes and waves goodbye to them before he hurries back over and starts arguing with the two of them; they untangle themselves and stand up from the table before Jo grabs Mack’s hand and drags him off.

They pass Connor and Auston who are laughing when they get the booth.

“Mo owes me fifty bucks,” Connor says smugly, nudging Jack over and handing him his drink when he slides into the booth to sit with them. “I told him they wouldn’t last all night.” 

Jack tries to pay attention to the conversation but Connor’s warm against his side, and he hooks his ankle around Jack’s while he’s talking to Dylan; Jack can’t help the way he leans against Connor and when Connor pulls his phone out to take a pic of the two of them, Jack presses his face to Connor’s and even smiles.

“Awesome, that’s going to be my background,” Connor tells him, a soft smile on his face; Dylan’s not bothering to hide his grin and Auston’s eyebrows are almost to his hairline, Jack tries to ignore both of them, along with how flushed he can feel he is.

“We’re going to go back to the hotel,” Auston says, the barely-there smirk on his face promising Jack he was going to get chirped hard later on, probably in the group chat. “Dylan’s gotta call Z and I need to take a shower so I’m not forced to listen to his awful sex lines. 

“See you at practice, guys. Remember what I said, Davo,” Auston adds with a pointed look at Connor before he drags a snickering Dylan out of the booth and towards the front of the club. 

Connor raises his beer bottle in acknowledgement of Auston’s words before he glances at his phone. “Shit, I didn’t realize what time it was.” 

He puts his drink on the table before he leans in close to Jack and brushes his lips against Jack’s jaw, there’s just the slightest pressure of Connor’s teeth, the promise of more in Connor’s voice when he goes on, “You want to head back?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jack tells him, his voice rough; he tries to keep how eager he is hidden but he’s pretty sure Connor hears it anyway from the way he grabs Jack’s hand and speed walks them all the way to the hotel.

The door’s barely closed behind them when they start stripping and fall on each other like they’re starving for it.

He’s fucked and Jack’s not sure he can bring himself to care any more.

*

Jack wakes up before Connor does and checks his phone while Connor’s still sprawled over most of the bed, snoring softly. He’s got a bunch of alerts from both the group chat and from his messages; he takes his time sorting through them and answering here and there. 

It’s peaceful, with everything quiet and Connor next to him, not having to worry about getting up yet.

Charlie’s message is near the bottom of his inbox, short and to the point, _tell mcdavid if he hurts you on purpose, i’ll break both his legs and send him to visit my dad_ ; it startles a laugh out of Jack because it’s just so Charlie and he knows Charlie means every word of it.

It accidentally wakes up Connor and they end up wrestling around until Jack gives him a blowjob as an apology.

It’s a good start to the day.

*

“Matts is kind of scary,” Connor says while they’re brushing their teeth. “He was all,” Connor waves his hand when Jack raises his eyebrows at him in the bathroom mirror, “big and looming and -I don’t know. He told me he was going wish me a fate worse than death? It should have been ridiculous but for a second he looked different…”

Connor trails off and shrugs; he still looks a little bewildered, like he doesn’t know why Auston had seemed scary in that moment. Jack could have told him, but there’s no easy way to explain what Auston is to other people. What any of them are.

“Yeah? Eks threatened to feed me to alligators, so I guess we’re even,” Jack tells him once he rinses his mouth and spits out the water.

Connor’s face clears and he laughs, playfully shoving him. 

He doesn’t bring it up again. Jack’s always been good at distracting people from things he doesn’t want them to talk about.

*

They win their second exhibition game, 6-2, and Jack gets two assists during the game and a blowjob from Connor in the trainer’s room afterwards.

He’s still half out of it when they run into Auston and Dylan talking to Johnny and Saader in the parking lot a few minutes later; Dylan’s eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline and Auston smirks at him like an asshole but neither one of them say anything because they’re not complete dickheads. 

No one else seems to realize anything’s different than usual, which probably would have embarrassed Jack if he wasn’t still come dumb; Saader and Johnny bullshit with Connor for almost twenty minutes while Jack tries in vain to bring his brain back online and his cousins grin obnoxiously and pull out their phones and start messaging people.

Jack’s pretty sure he’d be pissier about the whole thing if he wasn’t get laid on a regular basis and if it wasn’t always so fucking good.

*

They keep winning until they don’t and then they lose in regulation to Russia; Jack walks off the ice, careful to keep his temper under control until he’s in the locker room, and then he explodes, smashes his stick on the bench, pitches his helmet at the wall. He can feel his frustration bubbling under his skin, looking for an outlet, and part of him wishes he was closer to the ocean so he could go vent his temper in a more a satisfying matter.

Jack pulls his gear off, flings it onto the ground as hard as he can and glares at everyone who walks past him. He can see Auston out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the bench with his hands in his hair, struggling to keep his temper; he debates going over there and starting a fight, letting Auston take his anger out on him: he could take whatever Auston wanted to dish out, no matter what it was, and he could give as good as he got, but there were still humans _everywhere_. They were fucking surrounded and while Jack’s always been well aware of the fact that he’s not human, right now he’s never felt more different, more _other_ than most of his teammates. 

He doesn’t talk to the press, doing extra time on the bike instead and then running on the stairs in the ACC when he’s still buzzing with frustrated anger; the stairwell’s quiet, only his breathing and the sound of his feet hitting the stairs breaking the silence.

Jack’s lost count of how many times he’s gone up and done the same set of stairs when he makes the turn to head back down them and Auston’s leaning against the wall, in his suit from earlier with a bottle of water in his hand; he looks calm and collected, and Jack thinks if you didn’t know him, you’d never be able to see the temper still simmering under the carefully controlled demeanor. 

He stops in front of him, neither one of them speaking for a long minute. “If you want to brawl, I could probably manage something,” Jack finally says, rolling his shoulders and then settling back in place.

“Maybe next time,” Auston tells him, a small smile curling his lips; it’s as close to bared teeth as Jack’s likely to get from him when they’re not mad at each other and still this close to humans. “Dylan’s with Davo,” he adds and hands Jack the bottle of water. “He wanted to come find you, but we weren’t sure the kind of mood you were in, so.”

Jack makes a face but accepts it as the truth it is: he’s never been a graceful loser and he knows he’s perfectly capable of blowing up at the wrong person and saying something he doesn’t mean. He’s lost more than one friend, getting into fights after losses and eventually he learned to go off by himself when he got into that kind of mindspace. 

“I can’t believe we let them win,” Jack says, still furious at himself; he takes a sip of water instead of launching it at the wall, but it’s a close call and his hand’s shaking a little as he screws the cap back on. It makes him wonder if maybe he should just crash in Auston and Dylan’s room and save Connor the aggravation of dealing with him tonight. “Four fucking minutes of sloppy play and we fucked ourselves.”

Auston acknowledges his words with a sharp nod of his head; his hands are curled into fists at his side and Jack knows Auston is taking the loss as personally as he is. They’re both using this tournament to prove to the rest of the league that they’re as talented as their hype said they were, that they belong here, playing with the best. Auston has the same chip on his shoulder that Jack does, even if it’s for a different reason.

“We just make sure we don’t do it again,” Auston tells him, his voice tight with disappointment and anger; he’s almost vibrating with barely concealed emotions and if he didn’t have Connor waiting for him, Jack would just ask Auston to pin him to a bed so they could fuck this shitshow of a game out of both their systems. There’s something about being fucked until they’re both exhausted and sore that’s especially appealing after getting their asses handed to them like this and Jack knows from experience that it works. 

He hears voices coming closer to where they are, easily distinguishable as Connor and Dylan to him, and feels the brief desire slip away; whatever this is with Connor, Jack’s not going to mess it up, not like that.

“We make sure we win,” Jack agrees and fist bumps Auston, “We’ll kick ass the rest of this tournament and show those assholes just how good we are.” 

Jack feels a bit looser when they leave the stairwell, still mad but calmed down enough to actually smile at Connor inside of just baring his teeth and starting a fight when they run into each other in the hallway.

He’s quiet as they go back to the locker room so Jack can take a quick shower and change; Connor holds his hand on the way there, easy and natural, while he argues with Dylan and Auston about what movie they’re going to watch tonight.

It’s not as good as winning would be, but it’s not too bad, either.

*

Jack wakes up with Connor’s arm slung over his waist; it’s still dark out, the only noise in the room is everyone’s quiet breathing. 

He can just see the outline of Dylan and Auston tangled together on the other bed, blankets kicked down to their feet, and it makes him miss everyone else: a sharp ache that always manages to make his breath catch, no matter how often he feels it. They’re his family, more than his parents and sister are in a lot of ways, and he wishes they were all together more often.

He takes comfort in the fact that they’re spending time together, Noah and John taking Charlie around Boston while he gets settled in before school starts, so even if they’re not all here with him, they’re not alone.

Connor mumbles something and presses closer, and Jack lets himself fall back asleep.

*

They beat Sweden in overtime, Mac toe-dragging around the poke check and then going bar-down on Lundqvist; they all rush onto the ice and crash into Mac, crushing him against the boards, while screaming themselves hoarse and it’s the best Jack’s felt since they won gold at the U18s against Canada.

They don’t find out until after the game that they needed to win in regulation to advance clear to the next round; with the OT win, they have to wait and see if Finland beats the Russians later on that night. It sucks all the air out of the room and they’re all sombre when they talk to the press.

Everyone converges in Jack and Connor’s room that night to watch the game and potentially get drunk; everyone brings something with them, and it’s a cliche, the cases of beer and bottles of liquor, but Jack figures they deserve it: they played their asses off and even if they don’t advance to the medal round, they still did better than anyone ever thought they could.

They watch the game in mostly tense silence, until the Finns go up 3-0 with five minutes left in the third period and then it’s like all the air rushes back in the room, everyone starts talking and opening drinks. 

Connor immediately starts drawing plays up on a piece of paper, using a marker he found somewhere, and tells anyone who will listen about Europe’s power play. Dylan eggs Saader into doing shots, diving into it with the gleefulness of a guy who knows he’s not going to be hung over in the morning.

Auston drops onto the bed next to him, a smug smirk twists his lips when he slings a friendly around Jack’s shoulders. “We got this, Jacky, we’re going to kick ass.”

*

They draw Russia for their first game in the second round and with their defeat against them still fresh in their collective minds, they double down and play the kind of defensive game that hasn’t been their calling card this tournament. 

Since the first couple of games, they’ve settled on steady lines, with Jack centering the second line. Jack takes a lot of the d-zone face-offs, Auston’s playing wing and Connor’s strong suit has never been defense; he’s gotten better over the years, but it’s never been a priority for coaches to teach him, so Jack gets the majority of them, with Saader and Dylan on his wings, always ready for a quick pass so they can go streaking towards the other end.

A few years ago it would have made Jack angry, infuriated that he wasn’t being played the way he thought he should be, but now, Jack knows his strengths: that his reach, his ability to win a draw quickly and cleanly, the way he protects the puck, Jack’s as proud of all that as he is of his shot and the way he can put the puck in the back of the net.

He wants to win and as he lines up with Malkin, the ref between them, he knows they can do this. 

It’s a tight game, every zone entry a battle, until early in the third when Auston goes down in a heap against the boards; he only stays down for a few seconds before he’s back on his skates and reaching for the nearest Russian player. Jack doesn’t need to be any closer to see the sheer fury on his face, it’s a relief when the refs break it up and Connor grabs a hold of Auston before he can do anything else.

It takes the refs a minute to sort everything out, guys on both sides still cursing and trying to get to each other; Auston shakes off Connor’s restraining hand and skates over to the bench, takes his helmet off to hand it to one of the equipment guys, then turns to Jack and Dylan.

“You alright?” Jack asks, careful to keep his voice low; there wasn’t much that could put Auston down for longer than a minute or two, but if the coaches thought something was wrong, they’d pull him for the protocol, and Jack didn’t see a point in that when Auston would be fine on his own.

Dylan hands Auston one of the water bottles; he doesn’t say anything, just looks at Auston with his eyebrows raised. Auston rinses his mouth out and spits before he takes a long drink.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Auston assures them, he looks over where the coaches are talking to Connor and adds, “Rang my bell for a few seconds, but I’m good.”

Connor skates over, a hard edged grin on his face. “Ready to go, boys? Radulov got tossed for boarding and we’ve got a five minute powerplay: time to put the game away, lets go.”

They get three goals in two minutes, the Russians kill the rest of it off, but it doesn’t matter, the damage’s been done and the fight goes out of them. The rest of the period goes by in a blur and before Jack knows it, they’re all piling onto the ice to celebrate.

Connor pulls him into an empty room when they get back to the locker rooms and kisses him roughly, hands fisted in his jersey. “We did, Jack, we _won_.”

Jack rests his forehead against Connor’s and breathes for a second, just trying to take in how everything about this tournament has been unreal in so many ways. “Yeah, we did,” Jack says after a few seconds; he pulls back to press a quick kiss to Connor’s mouth. “Now it’s time to kick some Canadian ass,” he adds with a smirk.

Connor rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning when he opens the door and shoves Jack through it. “Yeah, yeah, enjoy it now, babe, because it’s never going to happen again.”

Jack’s good mood lasts for the rest of the night.

* 

Jack sits out on the ice for longer than usual the day of the championship game against Canada; he needs more time to get in the right headspace, to calm himself and make sure he’s ready to play.

He sits, legs folded, feet touching, and breathes in, focusing on the way the ice is murmuring encouragement to him, excited in it’s own way for the game ahead. 

_we know you will do well, godling,_ the ice assures him, a happy presence that only he can hear.

Jack exhales and looks up at mostly empty stands, fans just now starting to fill in. _i hope so._

* 

Jack looks around while they’re announcing the rest of his team and there’s more team North America gear than he would have thought: black and orange sticking out among the red and white Canada jerseys, almost as out of place here as their whole team is.

It makes Jack grin all the way through both anthems.

*

They go up 1-0 fast, Connor stealing the puck from Crosby after losing the opening face-off and sliding it over to Auston who manages to protect the puck even after getting knocked down to his knees by Doughty, then stickhandles around the attempted pokecheck, before saucing it over to Scheifs who goes bar down and in on Price.

It’s a gorgeous sequence and the crowd erupts, the bench cheering wildly when the guys come by for their fist bumps.

The good mood doesn’t last too long, Marchand ties it the next time he’s back out on the ice and Jack feels it settle in his stomach, a mix of pride and anger that makes him grit his teeth and jump over the boards his next shift even more determined to win.

They trade chances for the rest of the period and the next one, before they finally go up 2-1 early in the third when Dylan gets out of the box and goes streaking towards the Canadian goal, catches a stretch pass from Eks, dekes Price out of his jock and then tucks it in behind him.

They play it tight after that, not wanting to give the Canadians any opportunities to tie the game, but there’s less than a minute to go when they pull Price and their team gets hemmed in their own end. Crosby ties it with less than five seconds to go and they’re all reserved and numb when they file down into the locker room.

Connor looks at a loss, unsure for the first time all tournament, and he opens his mouth a few times before sighing and slumping forward, head in his hands. 

McLellan comes in then, stands in the middle of the room, looking around for a long minute before he says, “No one thought we would make it this far, this team was suppose to be a joke, something to play around with while the real teams went on and won. They never expected us, this team, to win at all, never mind make it to the final game. 

“I’m not going to tell you to be happy with what we’ve done already, because I know you want to win this as badly as I do, but I will say this: I’m proud to have coached this team and I know that we can go out there and win this. All we need is one goal, boys, and that is something this team has excelled at all tournament. We can do this and I expect nothing short of a win when we go back out there.”

“Come on, boys,” Connor says, standing up and clapping his hands together; he looks sure and determined, ready to go do whatever it takes to win and if Jack didn’t know better, he’d swear there was some Aries in him. “Lets go kick some ass!”

Jack goes out for the first face-off, lining up against Bergeron, and he takes a breath, visualizes Saader to his right, Eks and Mo behind them; he keeps his eyes on the ice, waiting for the puck, and as soon as he sees it, Jack shoves his shoulder against Bergeron and swipes at the puck with his skate, sliding it behind him for one of the d to grab.

Mo snags it and backs up, but before any of the Canadian players can do anything, he sends it up ice to Saader who’s lurking behind Doughty and Weber; Jack immediately follows, going as fast as he can, and when Price kicks out a rebound on Saader’s shot, it lands on right on Jack’s tape and there’s no hesitation when he shoots it top left corner.

There’s a second when Jack’s not sure if it’s going to beat Price: the puck hangs in the air, almost like it’s floating, but even before Jack can take another breath, it blows past Price’s shoulder and goes in the net.

There’s a hushed silence, even the crowd unable to process the game ending so quickly into overtime, and then the bench explodes, everyone streaking down the ice to crush Jack against the boards; he sees the shell-shocked faces of Doughty and Weber for a split second then they’re blocked by Dylan screaming and jumping at him, and the rest of the team screaming at each other.

Later, after drinking and singing and doing shots and drinking more, after enough alcohol that even Jack was starting to feel it, Connor kisses him in a dark corner of the locker room, drunkenly telling him how amazing he is.

It’s a better ending to the tournament than Jack could have hoped for.

 

*

“We should hang out this summer,” Connor says the night before their flights leave; they’re in bed, still sweaty and out of breath from fooling around, and Connor sounds unsure for the first time in weeks.

Jack thinks about his _dreams_ , how great it’s been, the way Connor seems to fit alongside him in everything he does. Jack wants Connor, even more than he did when he was sixteen and facing off against him during the U18s. He just _wants_ and maybe it’s time he lets himself believe that they can do this together.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Jack tells him, his voice soft, “I’ll miss you,” he adds, curling up on Connor’s chest, even if he’s still a little warm.

Connor relaxes back into the mattress and runs his hand through Jack’s hair soothingly. “We’ll make it, babe.”

He sounds confident and determined, like he can make this come out the way he wants just by saying it. Jack wants to believe he’s right, so he does.

“Yeah, we will.”


	2. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve met your dad before and he seems ok to me,” Connor tells him with a shrug; he moves closer so he can grab Jack’s hand and threads their fingers together. “I already told you, if you love me, that’s all that matters to me. Everything else is just details that I don’t really care about.”
> 
> “You didn’t meet my dad yet,” Jack says quietly, glancing back out over the ocean before he looks at Connor. “My biological dad, I mean. You’ve only met my stepdad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going through the godlings verse folder and I found this scene, so I figured I'd polish it a little up a little bit and post. Hope you enjoy Jack and Connor in Cabo during their bye week!

Cabo’s gorgeous, it’s warm and sunny out, and the water is a cheerful hum in Jack’s ears, eagerly talking to him and telling him how happy it is that he’s close by. 

There’s worse places Jack could have picked to have this conversation with Connor and if it went badly, well, at least he wouldn’t be completely alone afterwards. 

“Connor, I’m not,” Jack cuts himself off, frustrated; Connor’s standing next to him at the beach, calmly looking at him while the ocean swirls around their ankles. “My dad’s not...normal.”

“I’ve met your dad before and he seems ok to me,” Connor tells him with a shrug; he moves closer so he can grab Jack’s hand and threads their fingers together. “I already told you, if you love me, that’s all that matters to me. Everything else is just details that I don’t really care about.”

“You didn’t meet my dad yet,” Jack says quietly, glancing back out over the ocean before he looks at Connor. “My biological dad, I mean. You’ve only met my stepdad.”

“But I thought you were named after him?” Connor asks and then flushes when Jack raises an eyebrow at him; it’s gratifying to know that Jack wasn’t the only one stalking google for information when they first met.

“I was,” Jack confirms after a few seconds; he’s never really had to explain this to anyone else before. Everyone who mattered to him knew the truth already and there’d never been anyone outside of the bubble of his family who he wanted to tell. 

Until now.

“And I love him as much as I love my biological dad, he’s been there for me my whole life, but there’s,” Jack pauses for a second, trying to find the right word that covers everything about him that he gets from his dad and finally says, “stuff that only my dad, the biological one, could have given me.

“I don’t know any other way to tell you, Connor, because I’ve never cared enough about anyone else that it’s come up, so I’m just going to say it: my dad, my biological dad, isn’t human. And neither am I, not entirely.”

Connor doesn’t say anything and when Jack sneaks a look at him, he’s frowning and looking at Jack in disbelief. “What does that even mean, Jack? You’re not making any sense.”

“My dad’s a god, Poseidon,” Jack tells him, smiling slightly when Connor laughs in disbelief. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s why I love being by the water; why some animals come up to me; why I never get wet, even in the rain.”

“The ice,” Connor says, almost unwillingly; he squeezes Jack’s hand when Jack looks over at him. “You’re always barefoot and I always wonder how you’re not freezing.”

“Water never feels cold to me, not even when it’s frozen,” Jack says easily, looking away from Connor to back out over the water. “For as long as I can remember I’ve always been able to breathe underwater, to talk to the water. All kinds of water, not just the ocean. Nothing connected to the water would ever hurt me. I could go drink a gallon of sea water right now and it wouldn’t do anything to me. 

“It’s home to me, more than anywhere else almost,” Jack adds quietly, mostly to himself.

_is this your beloved, godling?_ the sea asks happily, the tide coming in so the water was up to their knees and rising. Jack makes a mental note to keep an eye on the water level: it usually takes a decent amount of time before it would be high enough to be a problem for humans, but his presence tends to make the sea even more eager than it usually was.

_yes, i think so,_ Jack answers easily, more comfortable talking about his feelings for Connor like this than he ever would be saying it out loud. _i want him to be._

“Jack, this is,” Connor pauses for second, clearly trying to find some words to tell Jack what he thinks about the whole thing; his hand stays in Jack’s, though, and he doesn’t step away from him, so Jack takes it as a positive sign. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I should have told you before this,” Jack admits and squeezes Connor’s hand. “But I didn’t think it would last this long, even after the dreams, and after John told me how much you loved me -how much we loved each other,” he pauses for second, tries to get his emotions under control; he’s never been much of a crier, but he doesn’t want his voice to crack on him when he’s trying to keep his shit together. 

“Jack,” Connor says gently, moving his free hand so he was cupping the side of Jack’s face; he turns Jack’s head so they’re looking at each other; he looks at Jack like he’s _everything_ and Jack has to bite his lip to keep himself from saying something dumb. “I love you and I don’t care about anything else, all that matters is that you love me, too, and I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.”

“I love you, too,” Jack tells him, voice rough with emotion; he presses his lips to Connor’s for a kiss, but after a few seconds he has to pull back and close his eyes, leans his forehead against Connor’s and just concentrates on breathing for a minute or two.

All around them the sea crashes happily, echoing Jack’s emotions like it always does.

**Author's Note:**

> Jack, Auston, Dylan, Noah (Hannifan), Charlie (McAvoy) and John (Hayden) are related in this, their fathers -and in Hayden's case mother- are all Greek gods and they refer to each other as cousins, but their actual blood relationships are a bit murky because, you know, Greek mythology is basically filled with everyone fucking their brothers and cousins and dads and whoever else they feel like banging. There's a scene where Jack thinks about him and Auston fucking, it's brief and barely a paragraph long, so I didn't think it warranted an incest tag, but it _is_ there, so be warned.


End file.
